In The Maid's Room (Extended view of 1x17 Heart and 7x7 Driven)
by deepdiveintoyoureyes
Summary: An extended view of what happened between Alicia and Peter during their scenes in the Maid's Room. In 1x17, after kissing Will for the first time, it's their first time together since the scandal. In 7x7, they're together for the first time since Will's death. What are they both thinking and feeling?
1. Chapter 1 - 1x16

She leant against the doorframe of the maid's room and scanned him with hungry eyes. Nothing in the fridge could fill the appetite that stabbed through her.

"You alright?" Peter asked.

She walked to her husband, and grabbed his face. She kissed him, twice, Will still on her mouth and in her head but he wouldn't know that.

His eyes widened and his body tensed. She hitched up her skirt and climbed up onto him.

His hands raced to his shirt, pulling off his clothes before she could change her mind.

"Let's go to the bedroom," he tried.

"No. Here," she said, voice cool and firm as she pressed him down, and there was so much want in her eyes and something wicked and assertive that he didn't know, that he didn't recognize.

He stirred with need and pushed himself up, to try and flip them, to try roll on top, like usual, but she grabbed his wrists and resisted.

 _There is no way_ , she thought. There was no way she could take the weight of him. Alhough she'd always liked being under him, being held, contained, the idea made her heart race with claustrophobia.

 _Okay,_ he thought. He would let her control this. He would do anything she wanted right now, blind in his desperation. He was desperate for things to feel normal, desperate to make love to her, desperate to feel her skin against his skin, but when he reached for her clothes she grabbed back at his wrists.

She wouldn't take them off. She wasn't ready for the intimacy.

He swallowed and stared up at her.

He watched, wide-eyed as she sunk down onto him, as hard and aching as he had ever been, and he groaned, almost in pain at the sublime feel of his wife.

He hadn't felt a woman for almost a year and he was terrified that he would instantly fall apart. He wanted to be on top of her, to control himself and to control her – and he gritted his teeth to hold back, crazy with love and lust for her and for this new, bold thing in her that turned him on even more…

He tried to pull her down to him, to at least to feel her clothed body flush against his, but she braced her hands against his chest to keep herself upright.

 _Okay,_ he thought again. _Her way. Fuck she felt good,_ he sighed,and he lifted his hand to her groin to rub against her with his thumb as she rode him.

She moaned in approval and his lips curled into a smile. As she moved against him, she closed her eyes and thought of Will – half out of desire, half as a punishment… _Was Peter thinking of her?_ She wondered, or was he thinking…

"Alicia…" he groaned, interrupting the scenes playing out on the backs of her eyelids.

When she opened her eyes, his were fixed onto hers - the intensity of his stare gratified her but she hated him while she loved him and wanted him to want her.

As he felt her speed up, he basked in the familiarity. He loved her and he had missed her and he wanted to prolong everything and tease her and so he pulled his hand away with a grin.

Instead of the needy moan that he expected, anger glinted in the hazel of her eyes.

 _What, do you think I'm going to beg? Think I'm going to plead your name?_ she thought.

She didn't need his hand, and he knew it, knew she could come against him with the motion of her own hips.

He watched her eyes fall closed again and he felt that her mind was far away.

 _Does she do this for you? Does she?_ She heard Amber's voice on the grainy tape; she remembered how she had felt when she had heard it, she felt again the shame and the rejection that had taken months to calcify into rage. When the rage came, she didn't ever think she would be back here with him.

She hadn't touched his body since she'd found out that he had shared it.

But he felt good to her now, and she swallowed, trying to get the sounds and the sights on the tapes out of her mind, screwed her eyes up tighter and _god, why hadn't he been in his office when she went back for him? Would she be with him right now? Would their bodies be warm against one another, would he press his mouth onto her throat as he pushed into her hard and deep?_

She thought of the feel of Will's unfamiliar arms, called back the whisky taste of his mouth, the feel of his hot tongue on hers, his stubble on her cheeks, his fingers on her back and…

"Oh god," she cried out as release pulsed through her body, blinding her, and she gasped as she rode out her waves against Peter as he stared into her face.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed, so turned on by her and by her agency. She stared back at him, her face impenetrable.

He throbbed, knew he wasn't far behind, tried again to flip her onto her back but again she dug her knees into the bed and refused with her body to be moved, to be held.

Instead she continued to rock against him, watched his jaw clench as he got close.

Empowerment flashed through her as her hips carried him to the edge and _why was this not enough for you?_ she thought, _why was I not enough?_

She felt his body grow rigid under her, and as he grabbed her thighs as she rode him to his climax, he called out "Oh my love, oh Alicia," and she wanted to cry back that she hated him and that she loved him.

Spent and breathless, he was finally able to pull her down to lie besides him, cradling his body around the back of hers.

As he sighed and kissed her neck, she stared straight ahead.

"I love you," he said.

She turned to him and smiled. It was a limp, half-hearted, smile, but it was something, it was a start, and he would take it.

She felt warmed and gratified and happy and sad and wanting and weak and a sell-out.

 _Dammit,_ she thought. _Dammit._


	2. Chapter 2- 7x7

"That's another million dollars…" Peter tilted his head to the ringing phone.

"Which do you want more?" Alicia mused, the entitlement and expectation running like a charge through her veins. Inside, she smiled – feeling just a shell of her former self, remembering all the times that ringing phones had interrupted her, interrupted them – and how she had assumed it to be an immutable fact of the world that whenever someone else needed Peter, her needs would have to wait.

Now, wanton and self-assured, the ultimatum flew unselfconsciously from her lips and she looked at the bulge at his groin, desperate for the feel of a man.

He looked at the phone and for a fleeting second she thought he would take the call – decided that if he did, she would dress and leave, paying for her dignity with the cost of her lust. But he pulled off his shirt and slipped into bed beside her.

He kissed her – lips at first strange but growing instantly familiar after almost two years apart - and her desire growled in her throat. Peter felt for her with his fingers; finding her slick and ready turned him on so much that he shivered, and "Oh baby" fell accidentally from his mouth.

He moved his hips to line them up, but she rocked back away from him.

Wordlessly, she placed one hand on his shoulder, soft but firm, and stared challengingly into his eyes while she gently pushed him downwards.

His eyebrows raised feeling her encourage him down her body. His wife – who for fifteen years had rarely let him touch her with the lights on – was demanding oral sex from him.

He was happy to oblige. The glimmers that he had seen in the past few years of her commanding side intrigued and aroused him.

He wondered when she had become this way – with _who_ she had become this way – and he tried to force the thought from his mind as he pushed her thighs apart.

As his lips and tongue reacquainted themselves with his wife, he felt her fingers move softly in his hair, missed how she had always done this.

"God," she cried, "Yeah…" and he felt that reliable rush of manhood throb in his chest and at his groin.

She moaned directions too, "a little higher for me… just like that… harder…" and although he loved the sounds of her breathy guidance, they bemused him too. _I know how to pleasure my wife,_ he thought. But then he wondered _Do I? Did I?_ While his mind whirred, his mouth moved habitually until he felt her thighs tense and tighten, until she cried out, "Fuck… oh god, oh my god…" and her legs fell back apart, limp.

Aching with lust he hurriedly moved up to her and then inside, moaning as he sunk into her receptive body.

She felt fragile, somehow, under him, birdlike, although the way she grabbed him into her told him she was not in the mood for anything gentle.

"God I missed you," he breathed…

"—Don't," she said, pasting a smile on her face to soften the sanction. "That's not what we're doing right now."

"Oh yeah?" he replied, smiling to try playfully to conceal the sting. "What are we doing right now?" he asked, pinning her arms above her head to wrestle back some power.

She growled her approval and he slammed into her, hips bucking fast with love, want, and a little anger.

His hands held her wrists and she screwed shut her eyes. _God he felt good._ She missed him sometimes, missed his touch, his arms, missed their life before…. _No_ she scolded. She focused on her body, their bodies, instead. She hadn't been with Peter since before… the shooting… remembered how he'd hugged her that evening and she couldn't even lift her arms. That night she had made him leave – couldn't stand the sacrilege of another man in her bed – and as she lay numbly in the dark she raged at her husband with her grief, thought she would never touch him again. But then she had had that thought - that she would never again be intimate with this man – several times before… _Enough_ , she insisted, trying to focus on the pleasure he was laying into her body.

But she couldn't still the tempest of her mind, so she changed tact, let it drift, welcomed into it an image of Jason, sitting back in his chair, legs apart - a provocation, an invitation. She thought of how he would fuck her, just like this, hard and deep while his weight bore down on her. She thought of how his beard would feel on her face as she pushed her tongue against his. She imagined him breathing into her neck as his thrusts made her dizzy, imagined how -

"Fuck I'm close Leesh…" Peter groaned, her warmth sublime, her body both comforting and new.

"Wait for me," she insisted, voice hoarse and needy through her wicked grin, and he gritted his teeth to hold back for this assertive, divine woman for whom his pent-up desire blazed furiously.

He moved his hands from her wrists to her hands, seeking closeness as he approached his climax.

"How do you want it baby?" he asked, unsure how much longer he could hold on.

"Don't move…" she whimpered, "don't move," and he steadied his thrusts, urgent and hungry, until he felt her climax clench around him, barely heard her gratified sighs as his ears rang with the white-hot ecstasy of his own release, and he pressed his mouth onto hers as he rode out the convulsing waves of his bliss.

"…Peter… Peter" he faintly heard her voice – alarm in her tone.

"What?"

"The door!" she said, frantic, and through his haze of ecstasy he heard the insistent knocking and _"Peter… Peter, I have a call!"_

"Oh my god it's Eli!" she whispered, a smile creasing her face at the absurdity.

"Be right out!" he called back. "Goddamit," he sighed, slipping out of her. He lay back and reached for her, tried to pull her to lie with him, but she stood up, scanning the floor for her clothes as he stared at her in surprise. He yearned for just a moment of intimacy, just a moment to hold her – but his pride stopped the thought from forming into words.

"Well… so you're alright with this?" He said, dressing himself. He couldn't read her brazenness, didn't know whether he liked it or not.

"Peter, I basically seduced _you._ You don't have to call me in the morning." Her words stung a little, so he ignored them, sending his mind back to the heat of their encounter.

"Yeah that was sexy, huh?"

"It's always sexier not to care," she said, running a nonchalant hand through her hair with an indifference that seemed to him almost practiced. _What in the hell does that mean?_ he wondered.

"…Why is that?" he asked, the only question he could muster.

"Because sex is sexier without love." She slipped a foot into a high-heeled pump. He didn't know what she was trying to say; didn't know why she had initiated this, or whether she would again.

He frowned. Was that true? He ran his encounters through his mind – Amber and the other girls he had paid for, sure they were sexy as all hell, but _sexier_ than that mind-numbing, forget-yourself level of fire that he and Alicia had trembled with over the years? He wasn't sure. _And who was she comparing him to?_ he wondered, the discomfort in his chest like an ache, so he turned quickly to the door to distract himself. _What the hell just happened?_


End file.
